


Taking On Water

by Sans



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Bonnie Bennett, Betrayal, Bonnie Bennett-centric, Breaking Up & Making Up, Drama, Epic Love, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship Meltdown, Gen, Hurt Bonnie Bennett, Mommy Issues, Possible Stefonnie, Romance, Vampire Elena Gilbert, Vignettes that turn into a full-blown story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans/pseuds/Sans
Summary: A blood supply run begins starts something more between Bonnie and Damon. It'll take several years, a lot of heartbreak, shifting friendships, a whole war, and the possible reordering of the supernatural world for that something more to stick.
Relationships: Bonnie Bennett/Damon Salvatore, Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson, Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore, Matt Donovan/Rebekah Mikaelson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	1. Purple Majesty

**Author's Note:**

> This was (is) originally posted over on FF.net, and will continue to be updated on that site, but I wanted to migrate this darling of mine to AOOC for the purposes of preservation and to boost the Bamon count (shameless Bamon booster, right here). I will post a chapter a week until, well, I'm caught up. 'Taking on Water' started as a series of vignettes that developed into a full-blown story kind of told through vignettes. It is and forever will be a Bonnie-forward fic, so even when she's not around, she's around. 
> 
> Takes place mid Season 4, diverges wildly after that, for obvious reasons.
> 
> Enjoy!

"I've Been Looking At You Too Much"

Friday night used to be about keggers in the woods near the old church, late-night swimming at the Falls, football games against the rival town, pool and milkshakes at The Grille. That was before the picturesque simplicity of Mystic Falls exploded. That was before she regularly communed with the living dead. Bonnie vaguely remembered that time, Before. It seemed fantastical, much less real than the daily horror show in which she had a bit role. She joked with Stefan and said the sweet transvestite should appear any second now. His brow creased. Her eyes were on the verge of rolling when Damon called out, "This isn't the junior chamber of commerce, Brad!"

Perhaps that act of pop cultural play formed the basis for a new recurring theme: partnership. That was it. It hit her as she watched Damon pillaging an industrial blood refrigerator. Here she stood, a lookout for a vampire stealing blood from a hospital lab. On a Friday. Bonnie thought of a Friday without this exact same scenario. The date had a circle around it. Was it really only three months? She fidgeted, shaking her head, trying to adjust the date.

"Hey."

Bonnie caught his eyes before pressing her face to the glass.

"You need to pee or something?"

"No."

"Then stop with the river dancing. It's not what your people do anyway."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? Not what my _people_ do?"

"You know, the Witch people," Damon said. A corner of his mouth formed a parenthesis.

Bonnie made a face. "Go back to leeching."

He turned his back but not before he grinned. Ruthie, the stainless steel portable blood mobile, had a decent amount of O and AB Positive. A little too decent. Bonnie was about to remark when a silent alarm triggered in her stomach. She glanced down the corridor. "Shit," she breathed. A security guard and two shotgun-carrying police officers came stalking around the corner. Bonnie gave a low whistle. Damon grabbed a few random bags of blood and closed Ruthie. Bonnie went for the interior lab door but Damon grabbed her and hustled her into a supply closet just as the officers burst in.

"What the fuck?" Bonnie whispered.

"There was no way we'd make it out that fucking door in the three seconds."

"And you couldn't, you know," Bonnie imitated a karate chop, "do that or," she gestured back and forth between them, "the compulsion thing?"

Damon leaned forward. Bonnie froze. His eyes shone in the dark. "I can't compel a bullet back into the chamber."

"Well, if you had used some restraint with the blood bags, we'd be back already."

"Really? Well, if you weren't busy ogling and squirming like a toddler, we wouldn't be stuck in a storage closet."

They stood a little too close. On any previous occasion they would jump apart and pretend the moment out of existence, but they remained in the moment, and their silent gazing said more than any words.

Bonnie broke first. "This is a typical moment in a suspenseful romance. In any romance, actually."

"Your breath stinks."

"And there it goes, ruined."

"I'm honest. What does my breath smell like?"

She took a big whiff. "Rank."

"And that's reality, sweetheart. Now, what are we going to do about these idiots with guns?"

Bonnie shrugged. "I say let's just jump out the window."

"Agreed," Damon said.

Bonnie counted to five and threw open the door. The officers whirled around. Bonnie blew them back across the room. A shotgun blast nearly blew off half her face. Damon grabbed her and Ruthie, then lunged for the windows. Bonnie managed to shatter the glass before they sailed through it. They landed in stride. Bonnie took Ruthie and put it in the backseat. Damon tossed her the keys. "I got a story to invent. Keep the car running."

He knocked on the driver window a minute later. She slid over as he got in behind the wheel and frowned when he handed over the two shotguns.

"Let's do something," Damon said. He tapped the steering wheel.

Bonnie placed the guns on the backseat floor. "You mean aside from stealing blood, getting into a one-sided gun fight, and jumping ten stories," she said.

He revved the engine. "Do you really want to spend another Friday babysitting Elena?"

Bonnie thought about it. Typical Friday night procedure: return to the boarding house, join Stefan in Elenafretville, fall asleep during one of Elena's lessons, or mediate another Salvatore argument, wake up in one of the guest rooms at 2 a.m., leave as quietly as possible in a house full of vampires. That was it. Not a hard choice.

"Something legal," Bonnie said.

Damon wiggled his eyebrows. "How about mostly legal?"

* * *

Bonnie held a quarter to the moon. "Look at that. I blotted it out."

"This is some good shit." He passed her the spoon. She blew fire and inhaled pleasant, acrid smoke. The coughing didn't double her over this time. His warm hand patted the space between her shoulder blades.

"So…" Bonnie listened to her voice in the crisp air. It didn't belong to her. It was too smoky, too steady, so far away.

Damon looked over at her. He smiled. His teeth were blinding. Bonnie squinted.

"So what? Why are you squinting? Are you high right now?"

"Maybe. I feel..." she hunched her shoulders then dropped them, "like a loose sheet of paper. Like, when you rip it along the perforated edge? And you stop because your pen dropped? Or your friend asked you something?"

Bonnie shook. "I'm rattling like a forgotten sheet of paper."

"No," Damon waved the spoon, "you're supposed to respond, 'Do you ever get nervous?' God, Bonnie, get with the culture."

Bonnie crossed her ankles. She lifted her arms into the air then let them fall like feathers. Quiet lapped around them.

"Do you ever get nervous?" Bonnie asked.

"Are we playing truth or dare?"

"No, no dare. Everything with you is a dare. No," Bonnie exhaled, "I say truth."

"Fine. I do get nervous. I'm nervous right now."

"Why?"

"Because nothing ever goes right. It always swerves left. Fucking always."

Damon packed the last quarter of Purple Majesty in the bowl. Bonnie leaned over to do her magic. They took a hit, ladies first. This time she didn't cough. His hand stayed put.

"I lied. Your breath was quite fragrant."

Bonnie gave him a sidelong glance. "Are you making a move? Because I'm impaired right now. It wouldn't count in the consent column."

"I'm impaired. Drugs are bad for us too, but we didn't have D.A.R.E. to teach us any better," Damon said. He closed his eyes.

Bonnie turned her attention to the glitter dusted sky. The stars scintillated. The moon cast a LED halo over the car. She inhaled. Exhaled. Varied the tempo. At one point she stopped breathing altogether but then thought it was a bad idea. She might forget to start again.

"Remember this time last year? You hated me."

Bonnie remembered. Hate was too abstract. A person could hate tomatoes but still like ketchup. A person could hate a song. She didn't hate Damon. She loathed him. Every opportunity to kill him had been obstructed by someone else's desire for his survival. Then the rules changed.

"Well, I don't anymore."

All the possible directions from that one response thickened the pause. Bonnie floated to the atmosphere, too high above the earthly realm to consider the implications and complications of actually admitting she no longer "hated" her natural enemy. Damon was on terra firma, and he considered them all.

"Why not?"

Bonnie reached for the pipe. She smoked the rest before answering, "I gave up on it."

He opened his eyes and saw her there with light shining around her. It was the first time he qualified her beauty. It was the first time he saw a woman and didn't compare her to the Torch or judge whether to fuck, kill, or ruin. He thought of kissing her, just to see if it would align with this new image, but the woods waved their collective limbs in warning.

Damon folded an arm under his head and crossed his ankles. The rolling waves of Purple Majesty and her heartbeat rocked him to the first sleep in months. Bonnie nudged him. His face fell towards her. She turned on her side and examined each part of it. She preferred Stefan's but there was something startling about it when in repose. It invited you into its corner to read and drink an iced coffee and have a conversation. And with the radiating moon, it had allure. So much so Bonnie put her hand on his cheek. She ran the back of it down the side of his face. She smoothed an eyebrow, touched the pad of a finger against the pad of his lips. She took her hand away and stared at him until her eyelids refused to support themselves.

Friday passed into Saturday with Damon and Bonnie asleep on the hood of the car, a cooler full of blood and two shotguns in the backseat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Subtitle taken from "Wildest Moments" by Jessie Ware


	2. B Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bonnie and Damon get defensive.

She's a loser. Maybe.

Morning came with dew. Bonnie woke with her head on the car door, wind brushing her face. She stretched as the car rolled into the parking lot of a roadside diner just opening for business. Damon compelled the cook to make her a bacon cheeseburger while he had a Bloody Mary. They shared a plate of Liege waffles. Bonnie lost card roulette and paid, scowling. Damon called the boarding house when they were ten miles outside Mystic Falls. His voice was soft. _Elena_. Bonnie watched the town come into view. Damon was reassuring while giving nothing. Bonnie took it as her cue. All must be forgotten.

And it was. For a week. No one seemed to notice or pretended not to notice. Everything was as fucked up as it ever was. Bonnie studied the craft, hung out with Matt, commiserated with Elena, coordinated possible POAs with Stefan, avoided Caroline and Jeremy, tolerated Damon. She stopped trying to contact Abby, as that relationship was nothing more than biological. She struggled a bit on Wednesday. Stefan wanted to track down Rebekah for the ostensible reason of vengeance, and she had to cast a search spell requiring human blood. It felt good. Toe curling good. So good she lost track of the spell mid casting and ended up finding Elijah. After, at home in her room, she panicked. She had gained access to a power source that didn't beget nosebleeds and blackouts. But dark magic had a higher price. Bonnie shut herself in on Thursday trying to reconcile the supposed cost with the necessity. 

Friday came. Unexpected giddiness made her jog to the Salvatore door. Elena appeared with a grin.

"You're early," she said, stepping aside.

Bonnie ducked into the foyer. She kept her answer vague. "We have to drive to another town."

"Or bring a bigger cooler."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe you could learn moderation?"

They stared at each other. The tension between them had started to manifest itself in how they behaved towards one another, with stiff familiarity. It affected their tones, their silences, their glances. Bonnie didn't want to think about the mutation of her last, stable relationship, she didn't want to see the peculiar detachment lighting Elena's face whenever she had to respond in kind. She turned to the staircase.

"Damon! Move your ass!"

Damon trotted down a minute later. He had on sweats, a pullover, and sneakers, of all things. Bonnie motioned to his outfit. "What is this?"

"My soft handling clothes," Damon said.

He jingled keys at her. "We're wasting time. You can admire me in the car."

"Admire what? You look sloppy as hell."

Damon wiggled his eyebrows. Bonnie sighed. Elena stood in the doorway as she watched the depart. She watched Bonnie slide into the passenger seat. She watched Damon say something and Bonnie laugh. Damon honked once and sped off down the pebbled drive. Elena raised a hand until the taillights disappeared. Her wave curled into a fist.

* * *

Damon pulled into the stadium parking lot. The flood lights were on from the game earlier that night.

"I thought we would do something different," Damon said.

"Damon," Bonnie began, "we steal blood to feed my friend, your eternal flame, Elena. We do not associate outside of that. So unless there's a blood rally going on here, right now, there is no different."

Damon grinned. "God, how do you make being a condescending killjoy sexy? I am dy-ing to know."

Bonnie looked intently at his face. "You are a grown man, you know that?"

He reached behind him and lifted a black cloth sack. "Come on," he said.

He led her onto the field. Bonnie examined the area with a suspicious eye. Damon whistled and she turned. Her heart froze.

Damon leveled a shotgun at her chest. He smiled.

Bonnie didn't even think. She sent Damon to his knees in seconds. While he writhed on the grass she snatched the gun from his weakened grasp. Next to his body was a case of shells. She picked one up. It was made out of wood. She sniffed it. Vervain soaked wood.

Bonnie stepped back a few yards before releasing the trigger. Damon staggered to his feet, swayed, then shook himself hard. Bonnie rested the gun stock against her hip.

"I disarmed you in fifteen seconds."

"Yeah, as a zombie."

Bonnie shrugged. "So is this what you had in mind?" She shot him in the knee. Damon collapsed with a yelp as the crack of the blast echoed through the air.

"If you wanted me to shoot you, we could have done this in a less conspicuous place. Like the woods. Or my house," Bonnie said.

Damon dug the bullet out and threw it in the box with the other wooden shells. "Is that an invitation?"

Bonnie pointed at the now healed knee. "That was a wooden bullet soaked in vervain. How—?"

He jumped up and flexed. "Alaric has me on a strict regimen of pain. If I'm going to be the monster asshole everyone thinks I am, I have to fit the bill."

"And that explains the wide open torture session?"

"I figured I'd make it a two-for-one torture session," Damon rolled his neck. "You see, I know all about your nosebleeds. And that's no bueno for the B Team."

Bonnie twisted her mouth in annoyance. Jeremy and his damn mouth. She leveled the gun at his other knee. She wanted to shoot but she probably had a bullet left. In the time it would take her to reload, Damon would be on her. What a shit way to spend a Friday night. Might as well make it count.

"I'm listening," Bonnie said.

"I need endurance training. You need practice in witchy multitasking. It's not as terrible as it sounds," Damon said. He sped backwards to the end of the field.

"Can you hear me?"

Bonnie nodded. "Like a mosquito in my ear."

"Perfect." Damon flashed her a grin. "Now to the reason we're here. I'm going to try to push you to the end zone. You have to stop me with whatever means available to you, excluding fire," he added when he saw her smile, "while you muzzle the sound of our play."

"This sounds like more of a test of my endurance than yours," Bonnie replied.

"Oh, to be young and naïve," Damon said. He ran in place. "You ready?"

"Wait, if this is a game, we have to have conditions, time frames, rewards."

"Okay. No fire, first sign of witch blood we stop, five minutes of gameplay, and if you win, you're off blood duty so you can be a teenager and blah blah blah. I win, we attach a clause of my choosing to that arrangement."

"Too vague."

"I'm being generous."

"I can walk away."

Damon smiled. "You can but you won't. You're bored!"

It nauseated her how often he was right.

"Fine. On three," Bonnie said. She grabbed a handful of shells and stuffed them in her jean pocket. She reloaded the gun. She didn't know a noise cancelling spell, but there was one that created something like a sense dampening net within a designated perimeter. Aside from the noise, there was the visibility issue. How many things did he want her to do in addition to trying to kill him?

"One," Damon called.

Bonnie raised the gun. Wait until he got close. Conserve the bullets. Remember that vampires jumped higher and ran faster than a human girl, even one with the power of nature at her back.

"Two."

Damon's blue eyes disappeared into a swell of crimson. Bonnie curled her finger around the trigger. _Do not aim at his heart_. _Do not aim at his heart._

"Three."

Damon rushed across the field. Bonnie held her ground. "Do not aim at his heart," she whispered.

He appeared in front of her before she was even aware of it. The gun went off. The sound ricocheted off the bones of her brain. Damon fell to the ground but was up and snarling in seconds. Bonnie staggered back. She fired again, into his stomach. He grunted but kept advancing. She reloaded and fired but he caught the bullets.

Bonnie tossed the gun aside. A barrage of aneurysms rocked Damon off his feet. She increased the frequency. Another thirty seconds and he'd give up. A wave of disorientation hit her. She watched as Damon crawled forward. He struggled to one knee, fell back, then fought against the incessant attack to stand. The disorientation turned to cold fear when Bonnie saw his dark eyes fix on her.

It wasn't impossible. Katherine did it. But she was old. Damon took a couple quick steps before Bonnie blew him back thirty yards. Metal tinged the air. The back of her throat was thick. There was too much going on. She needed to conserve. Damon rushed her but instead of a turning his brain into strawberry syrup, she tossed him clear across the field, into the goal posts.

Damon had a minute left. Bonnie ran for the gun just as Damon collided into her. They wrestled. Bonnie tried to propel him off but he had her too tight, and she flew with him. They battled, locked in a literal power struggle. He edged her towards the white line. Panic drew on instinct. She tapped into his strength, fused it with her own, and they broke apart in an violent combustion of air, grass, and earth.

Bonnie stirred and looked up. Her hand rested on the white line. She won. Damon was on his back yards away, one leg propped up. He wore a rueful grin. Dirt and drying blood grimed his face. His pullover and sweats were ripped. Bonnie laid next him. They breathed in unison. For all the effort, and despite the fact she'd have to pay for it tomorrow, Bonnie felt exhilarated. She fought a vampire and won.

The floodlights shut off. Darkness swept over them like a cover.

"Fuck me, you are one formidable witch."

"You were okay." Bonnie looked over at him. His profile stood out in the dark. Last Friday she got high and had a great night just being. Tonight she had a great night kicking ass. Because of Damon. Damon and their arrangement.

"I was okay," Damon repeated. "I pushed through your brain bombs. I think that qualifies me as good, possibly great."

Bonnie let the silence stretch. She stared up at the stars. His arm brushed hers, and when she didn't flinch, rested there.

"You beat me, so I guess that does qualify you as good."

Damon lifted his head to glance at her. "Really?"

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Don't get too excited. If fire was allowed, you'd be screaming mercy five seconds in."

He continued to stare at her. Bonnie sat up to dislodge his gaze.

"I don't even have a speech prepared," Damon said. Bonnie relaxed. They sat there for another minute. Damon got up first to retrieve the gun and bullets. Bonnie stood up when he was done. They drove back to the boarding house, silent and tired.

Bonnie spent the night in the guest room. She slept facing the door, wondering about things she never thought to wonder.


	3. Yardwork

The Universe Cares.

No one was home, per usual. The dead quiet pronounced her thoughts and amplified her loneliness. Bonnie inspected the overgrown yard. A blanket of dead leaves covered even the smallest patch of evergreen. She raked and mowed and used the air blower until the early afternoon. It felt good to work in the cold air. The sun hid behind gray clouds. The rain would come later, forcing her indoors.

Bonnie just stowed the lawn tools in the shed when the clouds broke. She dashed to the front porch, but a sense of melancholy stilled her hand on the front doo knob. She looked through the paneled glass of the door frame. The foyer and hall leading to the kitchen were neat. One pair of snow boots stood at the foot of the stairs. A scarf and a coat hung on the hook. Bonnie stepped back. It was a stranger's house.

She sank onto the cushioned porch swing. The rain fell in gray strands. A brown leaf drifted across the floor. Bonnie continued its movement until it landed in her palm. She turned it over and over and over. Underneath the faded brown were shades of gold and and red. The stem retained some flexibility. Its green life lay hidden. Bonnie drew it out, syllable by syllable. The regeneration of a living thing was a meticulous and painstaking process. Even for something as small as a leaf. Her grandmother's lesson sounded in her ears: _A witch must respect the boundaries of nature. Do not transform. Heal. Replenish. Follow the symmetry of the lines. Let go of what you think it should be and let it become what it is, what it once was, what it wants to be again._

A smooth, waxy green leaf rested in her palm. She bent the supple stem. Moments like this, with the leaf, made her grateful for her gift. It made her miss Grams even more. The loneliness sharpened. She blew on the leaf and it traveled out into the rain. She sent it to find someone who needed a bit of green in their life.

The phone rang. No one called except for the last resort spell. Bonnie almost left the swing, but sank back. This was her time.

The light grew dim. The rain fell at a heavier slant. Her mind turned to school, then college, then to friends. She thought of Elena at the the manor, playing her games. They hadn't spoken in a week. Bonnie took to heart the accusations Elena launched at her, and she meant the comparison she hurled back. It wasn't fair, none of it. Bonnie never imagined, after the deaths and the transformations, that the one thing tearing them apart would be an asshole named Damon.

But that was the problem. Somehow, without Bonnie even noticing, Damon became less of an asshole and more of a complication. She looked forward to seeing him. To talking to him. To doing stupid things like defense training and going to a Rocky Horror Picture Show revival and breaking into a carnival after hours with him. Maybe she should have shared those experiences with her best friend. Maybe she should have treated it less like a secret. Maybe she shouldn't care so fucking much. But she did care. She wasn't willing to exchange Elena, however batshit crazy she became, for Damon. She also didn't see how that could be a possibility, and why Elena turned into a jealous monster with raging denial issues.

Elena had nothing to worry about. All of Bonnie's relationships revolved around her. Whatever existed between Damon and Bonnie was due to Elena. Not mutual attraction or affection. None of that. Never. That could never be.

Bonnie suddenly missed the leaf. It was her bit of green and she had to think of someone else.

A crack of lightning illuminated the oncoming night. Shuddering thunder followed. Bonnie sighed. She got up and stretched, her eyes unfocused on the street. A familiar blue Camaro parked by the mailbox. She dropped her arms, the air suddenly turned muggy.

Damon got out, paused when he saw her, then jogged up the sidewalk to the porch steps. Bonnie drifted to the top step. She looked down at him and he up at her. It was a strange shift in perspective, to see him from this angle. His hair hung in wet strands, rain dripped off the tip of his nose. He scowled at her, blue eyes like bits of glass.

"Why aren't you answering your phone?"

"I was away from it. What's going on? Vampire hunter stuff?"

"Yes," Damon shook his head, "No. I need to talk to you."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "If this is about-"

"It's not about Elena or about vampires or witches or the rest of the supernatural pantheon. I need to talk to you because," Damon looked at her. He ran a hand over his face. When he looked up again, her stomach hollowed out. 

"I need to know if this is a mutual thing. Because it just occurred to me that it might not be. You're adept at lying just to get through it. So I need to know if that's what you're doing."

Her mouth went dry. There was rain and a guy on her doorstep, asking...Bonnie wasn't sure what he was asking. She knew what she was feeling. She knew that if Damon stepped closer, she wouldn't move, wouldn't turn away. She'd lean into him. But Bonnie tamped it down, dismissed it as something else. Friendship. Mutual acknowledgment of loneliness. The evasive questioning was unlike him. Bonnie decided to save him.

"If you're asking me if I like you, I do. We've become friends."

Damon held up a hand. "Don't do that. It's such an Elena-ism, it makes me nauseous. We're not fucking friends. Not now, anyway."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

Damon climbed the rest of the steps until his face was directly beneath hers. Bonnie didn't move. She didn't turn away. His eyes roamed her face. "Tell me you're attracted to me. Tell me all those moments mean something. Tell me so I can stop wondering and do something."

His voice was soft and warm and earnest. Bonnie tried to be appalled, or at least confused, but it tired her out. The universal determination to make her life miserable had come to a head. She might as well give in and avoid more damage.

Bonnie sighed. "I wanted to kiss you in the funhouse. But I didn't. Because it's weird. You have to see how weird this is," she said.

Damon nodded. "It is weird. It is strange and potentially disastrous, but I wanted to kiss you in that storage closet. And when we got high. And in the funhouse, And every time you look at me. So we're going to have to find a way to deal with this weirdness."

Damon was below her and Bonnie realized, too late, that she had been on the precipice of falling. If she did this, it meant letting the water into her lungs and sinking into depths murky and unknown. It meant closing her eyes and letting the air out, slow.

Bonnie inhaled and leaned down to his lips. Damon caught her mouth, not bothering to wait. She didn't drown, it wasn't that kind of kiss. Instead, heat blistered her lips and tongue, licked her spine. She breathed in fire.


	4. Barbire

Concentrate, Will Robinson

Bonnie insisted on keeping up appearances. More for her benefit than anyone else. Damon argued, but what could he say? He had the girl he wanted (right now) when he wanted her (right then). Bonnie found it easy to pretend, even when Damon pressed a kiss to her lips when they were the last to leave the room or when he did that stupid smirk thing as she yelled at him for putting them in danger. Again.

It changed when they were alone. Damon was intense, Bonnie knew he would be, but she didn't know she'd match it. She hated to see those girls who needed to touch and be touched. The guy always had a hand on her ass or on the back of her neck or ran his fingers up and down her arm--those displays of possession disturbed Bonnie. And then Damon rang the doorbell late one Saturday night and grabbed a handful of cheek as hello. He trailed kisses from her mouth to her collarbones, over and over until her skin burned, until she had to get his jacket off and his shirt and down on the couch. They spent hours rolling around, skin on skin, exploring the little hotspots.

From then on it could go from heavy petting to plain heavy if she ran her teeth along his neck, or if Damon traced the curl of her ea. In fact, anything Damon did with his hands spelled trouble. He had the peculiar ability to get her naked to her underwear before she took control. Damon left her buzzing. He left her tender. It was terrible. Before all the handsy stuff the attraction was manageable. She didn't dream of fucking him senseless before that afternoon in the rain. Now she heard his voice, be it across a crowded room or in her ear, and it was all she could do to not.

A solid week of Damon nightcaps left Bonnie frazzled. The illusion of indifference in public started to waver. She caught herself staring at his lips in front of Elena and Stefan. She had to fight to keep the softness out of his name during a discussion. Elena began sending her looks. Caroline even orchestrated a run-in on the pretense of test notes.

"Hey, did you happen to get those notes on fungi?" Caroline asked.

Bonnie looked from behind her locker door. Caroline held a binder loosely to her chest. Bonnie frowned. "Uh, no. Did we even cover that today?"

Caroline nodded. "We did. For the entire class. Fungi will be on the test," she said. Her smile fell into ungainly territory. The silence stretched into an awkwardness Bonnie hadn't felt since Caroline turned.

"Do you want to talk about something or..." Bonnie trailed off.

Caroline shook her head. "Nope, nothing to say except--if you want my notes--there's," Caroline inhaled. "Look, Bonnie, I know we haven't been biffles since that Freaky Friday shit you pulled with Tyler and Klaus, but if you need to talk to someone, please talk to me."

"I'm fine, Caroline. I appreciate the olive branch." Bonnie turned into the traffic of exiting kids. Caroline followed.

"You're distracted. Since when do I have notes that you don't have? It's bizarre. It's a symptom of something," Caroline said. She hustled Bonnie into the nearest classroom.

"Oh my God, you cannot just talk to me after the longest freeze-out in history and expect me to confide all of my deep, dark secrets," Bonnie said, "and you cannot use your freakish vampire strength to force me to talk."

Caroline pointed at her. "So you do have deep dark secrets. I knew it. I bet this is about a guy."

"No guy, no secrets. I'm just stressed out. I can be stressed out."

Caroline considered her for a moment. She smiled, opened her binder, and handed Bonnie a sheet of paper.

"A lot of shit has happened to us. A lot. And I know it's been hard, with Elena, and Jeremy, and everything, but don't rush into something, okay? Just because he might make you feel like a Rihanna song and Christmas and a thousand sparklers every second for the hour you're together, doesn't mean it might always be that way."

Bonnie stared at the fungi notes. She twisted her mouth into a line of grudging gratitude. "Thanks for the notes."

* * *

Bonnie worked off her nervous energy by writing two essays, finishing a math study guide, and organizing her wardrobe and chest of drawers. She scrubbed her bathroom until her nose got stuffy from the bleach. She vacuumed the landing and stairs, dusted the picture frames and polished the coffee table and end pieces in the living room. She even baked a strawberry-rhubarb pie, from scratch. The clock blinked at her as she hovered near the oven . 2:17 a.m.

She left her cell phone on her bed. The ringtone volume was set to maximum. She had hoped he would call or text or send up a flare or something, but that was four hours ago, before pie. The timer went off and she warred with herself about using power to cool the pie faster. Really, how long do these things take to cool? Bonnie gave it ten minutes and went to the freezer. She frowned at the half pint of vanilla ice cream. This was not happening. She was not considering eating pie a la mode, by herself, at two something in the morning.

"Something save me," Bonnie said into the freezer.

A soft knock came from the side door off the kitchen. Bonnie knew that knock.

Damon leaned against the door frame. He had an arm half-hidden and a smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. Bonnie raised an eyebrow.

"Don't think I stayed up waiting for you," Bonnie said.

The smile made it to his eyes this time. "Of course you didn't," Damon said.

He leaned forward but she moved inside. Her heart was beating too fast, it bothered her how loud it became just at the sound of his voice. Bonnie touched the pie, concentrating on bringing the heat down to edible.

"What's wrong with you?"

Bonnie whirled. Damon sat on the edge of the kitchen table. He had a bottle next to him and a curious tilt to his head. "I lifted this Rosé from a garden party." Damon read the label. "I bet this'll taste good with that strawberry-rhubarb pie you didn't bake."

It hit her when he set the bottle down and looked at her with those eyes. This wasn't going to work. She wanted him so badly her stomach hurt, but the bleach and the dusting and vacuuming knocked something loose or into place. She didn't want some dramatic scene. Observing Damon sitting on the table, the bottle resting on one knee and his eyes narrowing on her face, Bonnie knew she might as well wish for a unicorn.

"If you're angry with me-"

Bonnie interrupted him. "I'm not angry with you. I've got a lot on my mind."

"Somewhere in the early 1900s I considered becoming a psychoanalyst. Took a few courses and everything," Damon said.

"You? A vampire therapist?"

Damon slid off the table."I'm very good. I have a wide range of techniques. From the talking cure to," he paused as he stood before her, "physical therapy."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Does that include staring deeply into some girl's eyes and compelling her to better health?"

"Why do none of my lines work on you?"

"Because I'm not interested in classic Damon," Bonnie said. She turned and took the pie to the table. Next she went to the freezer for the ice cream. She set two spoons next to the pie."You sit there," Bonnie pointed to the stool farthest from her, "and I'll stay here. We're going to talk."

Damon gave her another narrowed look. They sat at opposite ends of the table, pie between them.

"Is this a 'I'm having reservations' talk? Because those don't go over so well with me," Damon said.

"Caroline knows," Bonnie said. She scooped out a spoonful of pie and ate it. Damon shrugged. He ate a spoonful of ice cream.

"Barbire exists on gossip and blood. Of course she knows. So what?"

"I don't expect you to understand since you and Stefan like having the same taste in women, but I can't have the same taste in guys as my best friends. Do you know how strange that conversation will be?" Bonnie waved her spoon. "Oh, hey, how was that make-out sesh with Damon? He did that tongue thing? Yeah, it was my favorite thing too. Oh, yours too, Elena?"

"Ah, so it's the tongue thing, huh?" Damon said. Bonnie pursed her lips. He started to laugh.

"I'm being serious. And honest. I like you. But I don't think-"

Damon was next to her in a second. He took the spoon out of her hand and stuck it in the pie. "You don't think it's a good idea because I slept with Caroline."

"You fed on her, used her, and would have killed her if not for Stefan," Bonnie said.

"Again, because I slept with Caroline," Damon said. He ran a finger over her wrist bone. Bonnie flushed, then brushed his hand away.

"But that's not it, is it? There's more," he moved behind her. He ran his hands over her exposed shoulders, then dropped a kiss where his hands had been. Bonnie inhaled sharply.

"I can't think when you do that."

"I know," Damon said.

"I'm still unsure about..."

Damon turned her around and kissed her. Bonnie had tasted a variety of Damon kisses, but none of them could be described as sweet. She tasted the vanilla, and beneath that wine, and then him. He lapped in her mouth, teased her lips, made her moan once or twice. His knuckled brushed her stomach. Her fingers curled around the front of his leather jacket.

Bonnie drifted down to her feet with vanilla and wine still on her lips. Damon held her tight, his nose against her neck.

"Don't think, Bonnie. Don't judge it. Just," Damon breathed against her skin, "just let us be here, in whatever moment we happen to be in."

Bonnie edged back. She stared at him for a moment. It wasn't going to work, but she wasn't searching for something lasting. Neither was he, at least not with her. All that mattered was the moment.

"I'm not going to eat this pie by myself," Bonnie said.


	5. Carnies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to when Damon and Bonnie go to the fair and catch feelings.

Mazes Can't Hold Her

"Psst."

Bonnie slapped the side of her ear. The sting yanked her out of her sleep. Bleary-eyed, she sat up and groped for the lamp. A warm, dry hand prevented her from switching it on. Bonnie frowned in his general direction.

"It's too early to bother me."

"Never," Damon said. He tossed some clothes at her. "Get up. We're going out."

Bonnie threw the clothes away and turned on her side. "Why?"

"Why else? Because it's midnight and you're the only sourpatch over the age of fifteen in bed."

The bed began to shake. Bonnie fought hard not to be amused. She used the kernel of irritation at being awake as a defense against this strange demonstration of lightness.

"So? Take Elena or the one other friend you have and go out. I'm busy trying to sleep."

The bed stopped shaking. The room felt suddenly empty. Bonnie looked to see if he had gone when a wall of white cotton surrounded her on all sides. She kicked but Damon had scooped up the bedsheets into a sack and hefted her over his shoulder.

"Damon! What the fuck!" Bonnie twisted, kicked, punched. She was about to use the aneurysm trick when he said, "Do it and I'll trip down these stairs and your head will bust open like a bad egg."

"Elena! Stefan!" Bonnie called. Damon only laughed.

He dropped her on the sharp gravel of the driveway. Bonnie scrambled out of the mess of sheets and blankets. She glared at him. Damon tossed her a pullover, a pair of jeans, socks, and some boots.

"I like the cami and booty shorts, but practical wear is best for what we're doing tonight."

Bonnie just stared at him. She had given up trying to understand what compelled him to take her on his late night gallivants. But kidnapping? Damon stooped to pick up the sheets and toss them in the back of the car. He went to the driver's side.

"You coming?"

Bonnie looked up to the sky with a sigh. One of these days, when she regained her common sense, the answer would be a resounding no.

She dressed in the backseat and climbed into the front when done. They passed the sign for the highway and Bonnie shot him a look.

"What are we doing?"

"We're going to the fair."

Bonnie sat back. "I think our lives are carnie enough, thanks."

"You're in the car already, sourpatch. Just face it," Damon grinned at her, "you love these little jaunts. They excite you."

Bonnie put her hood up. They did. She recalled the slight disappointment when they returned with a full Ruthie and Damon promptly left. She got stuck with Elena duty, and then Elena and Stefan went out into the woods to hunt Thumper or whatever. So she read, watched television, and went to bed. That was her Friday.

The trees whizzed by in one dark blur. Bonnie rolled down the window. Cold air whipped her face. She closed her eyes. This was her Saturday. Damon nudged her. He motioned for her to hold the wheel. Bonnie steered while he put down the top, his body brushing and flexing against hers. She swerved a few times, much to Damon's glee. The wind was everywhere. The scent of pine and sharp cold filled her nostrils. And his cologne, which she liked.

"Wanna drive?"

She looked into his blue eyes for a moment. "Yes," she said.

They moved their bodies. Bonnie slid halfway onto his lap. She straddled one of his legs as she tried to find the gas pedal. They laughed when the car shot forward, then Damon cursed when he bumped the gear shift.

Bonnie settled behind the steering wheel. Damon let his arm trail along the back of the seat. She glanced at him. His face changed into his normal mischievous smirk but she caught something much more solemn and contemplative. Her stomach twisted into a thousand bows. Damon tugged down her hood, the hair tie going with it. Her hair went wild in the wind, a living thing. His eyes turned a darker blue than usual. Bonnie kept her eyes ahead and pressed on the gas.

* * *

Damon directed her to the fairgrounds. It was on a vacant lot behind a church. Bonnie pulled up around the back, near a few parked trailers. Damon sat up and listened for a full minute.

"It's all dark. We're good to proceed, Sourpatch."

Bonnie nodded. "10-4, Asshat."

The rides seemed larger powered down. The Ferris wheel stood above it all, a giant inert wheel against a black sky. She turned to Damon but found herself alone.

"Damon?" Bonnie hissed.

A sharp crack of electricity anticipated the loud whir of a dozen motors starting at once. Soft, pale light washed over the grounds. Multicolored bulbs shone in the distance, and light strips on all the rides twinkled. Bonnie crouched behind the nearest booth. Her heart pounded. Cold sweat broke out along her lower back.

Dusty brown boots stopped before her. Bonnie looked up. Damon peered down at her, an eyebrow quirked. He held out a bag of popcorn. "Kettle Corn?"

Bonnie shoved his hand away. "Are you out of your fucking mind? We trespass on private property and you turn on the damn lights and want to eat popcorn?"

Damon helped her up anyway. "Not trespassing if you pay for it."

Bonnie shook her head. "But the sneaking-"

"I just like to see you stroke out. Consider it an added bonus."

Bonnie reached for the proffered popcorn. "An added bonus to what?"

"I'm not sure yet," Damon said. He nodded towards the Gravitron. "Come on. Let's see what you had for dinner."

As it turned out, Damon hired two workers to man whatever ride he wanted. Bonnie got over her initial suspicion that it was a date when he asked her which stuffed animal Elena wouldn't give to the local thrift shop. She said she didn't know. Elena wasn't a stuffed animals kind of girl.

"You're telling me Elena has never had a pile of fluffy wuffies?"

"She had some, but we made crazy ass animal hybrids and gave them to little sick kids." Bonnie smiled at the memory. "We scared the shit out of some of those kids, though. Imagine getting a snionphantird with dyed red stuffing coming out of the stitching."

They climbed the stairs to a suspect roller coaster. Bonnie slid into a car. Damon sat next to her and pulled down the lap bar.

"And here I thought you guys collected Lisa Frank binders and Carebear pencils and used glitter glue on cards."

"No, that was Caroline. We were what our parents called 'precocious'."

Damon chuckled. Bonnie thought about that sound for the entire bumpy, spine-jarring ride. She thought about it as their bodies squashed together during sharp turns and rose together speeding over hills. She thought about it as her own laugh rang out, how it filled in the night.

They rode the coaster twice. Bonnie felt dizzy so they walked to the open booths. She watched Damon systematically win at every game. Every hit, shot, and swing hit its target one hundred percent of the time. Bonnie expected him to brag but he kept silent. She realized he wasn't trying to win. There was nothing unfair about being precise and accurate in his movements. He was a vampire, just as she was human.

Bonnie helped him dump all the prizes in a large plastic bag. Damon carried it over his shoulder as they slow walked the empty food alley and ate cotton candy. He told her the history of carnivals. It was preposterous, something about a witch and a collection of failed love spell recipients, but she listened and nodded and asked serious questions. The Ferris wheel loomed above them all of a sudden.

"I hate this thing," Damon said.

"Me too," Bonnie said.

"What's your reason?"

"You can get stuck before you even reach the top, and when you do, it's over before you can really take it all in."

"True."

"What's your reason?"

"It's the only ride that stands as a symbol for romantic faith. You get on with the girl or guy, complete the revolution, get a little lucky at the apex, and get off holding hands and high. But some cheat. Some just jump right to the top with the girl."

Bonnie glanced at him. Elena told her about Stefan's romantic gesture the night of the fair. Either Damon heard or Stefan said something or Damon had stalked them. The way he spoke, she went with the last possibility. He stared at the wheel as if it were the answer key to the Elena problem. 

"I saw a fun house over there somewhere," Bonnie said. She crossed in front of him. She didn't look back to see if he followed.

Dark amber light illuminated the inside of the funhouse. Bonnie saw herself from all angles, all at once. She darted left, twirled, and found herself in a maze of warped mirrors.

"Bonnie?"

"Aqui."

"Mazes aren't my forte."

"Really? And here I thought the world and everything in it was your forte."

There was a sharp curse as a thump shook the wall to her left. Bonnie grinned. "Think of this as a training exercise. Vampire hunters have you trapped in a house. It's morning and they took your day ring. You're weak from vervain. How do you get out alive and in a timely manner?"

"I call the cavalry."

Bonnie studied the range of mirrors. She went right and entered a tight room of undulating glass. Her reflection shimmered and buckled. She turned as the dull thud of an extra panel slid into place, cutting off her exit route.

"The cavalry is held up. The hunters are moving in."

"I'm calling you to hurry up."

Bonnie stopped short at the same time the lights burn out and the floor craters. She screamed, even though the fall was a few feet, and there was crude cushion to soften the landing. She groped around for a grip. Her hands slid over smooth bumps of coolness. Glass. Bonnie stood and followed the wall. The room curved into a circle. She made three revolutions before stepping back and calling out.

"Hello? Damon?"

A cold hand brushed her own. Bonnie jerked back but the hand held her fast. She swung, her fist colliding with a smack against a hard palm.

She saw his eyes shifting in the dark, a strange shimmer of black and blue. "Relax," Damon said.

Bonnie exhaled. "You're an asshole. Did you set this shit up?"

"No. Like I said, mazes are no bueno. And I don't like tumbling down shoots, either." Damon let one hand go but held her fist. "Think you can conjure up a light?"

Bonnie focused a bit. She eased her hand from him and blew into her cupped fingers. A small flame danced in the air. She looked up.

The flame lit his face like no light ever did. It startled her, distracted her. Her mouth went dry as his eyes, so vivid a pale blue, roamed over her face. She looked at his lips, at the shadows deepening between his parted lips, and inhaled. They were a foot apart, then half a foot, then inches, then centimeters. His cologne filtered into her lungs. Bonnie was on her toes and Damon had his head tilted to the side when the amber lights flickered on.

The flame flickered out.


	6. A Magnificent Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damon goes poaching for a heart.

Do Anything

Damon waited.

He purchased several newspapers from the town bookstore, went to the coffee shop across the street, and read.

He sipped a strong blend of black and rooibos tea and ate a container of apricot shortbread cookies. Every time he bit into one, he thought of Bonnie. And every time he thought of Bonnie, he settled further into this waiting game. He finished the newspapers and the tea and cookies as the clock struck noon. It was a bright day, crisp. As a being who lived well beyond his expiration date, Damon had come to appreciate days with definition. He savored them. Fall, with its amber twilight and halcyon afternoons, was his favorite season. The leaves falling in variegated shades of red, gold, and orange; the smell of winter ripening; the sense of abiding.

He walked to Carl's Mecha, a body shop located at the end of Main and Vine. He chatted with Carl as he swiped his credit card. Ten thousand dollars and a business card later, Damon drove the now fully renovated 1962 Ghia down Main towards old Wickery Bridge. The scowl on Stefan's face when he parked the Ghia next to that cherry cliche? Damon smiled. His smile grew as he imagined a beautiful girl pressed against the cream leather seats. But what girl? The smile dimmed.

He made a quick u-turn away from the house and sped off down the private road leading to back country. The engine rumbled as he shifted into third gear. Leaves swirled as the tires tore through their encampments. The wind whorled in his ears, drowning out her words, her accusations, the absolute truth of it. He didn't know what to do with her. He only wanted her, wanted her as sure as he wanted blood. But then, he wanted to be human again, to be done living every day in a stupor of the senses. With her he could never be that. She never saw the humanity in him. Only a relatable monster.

Damon drove to the end of his patience and back.

* * *

Stefan ran a hand over the trim. He inspected every part of the car, his annoyance turning to grudging approval as he sat behind the wheel. The wood was smooth and cool beneath his palms. "You're a few decades too late to join the Rat Pack, but the dedication is admirable," Stefan said.

"Never liked that scene," Damon grinned, "just the girls and the cars. Besides, why should celebrities have all the toys?" "

Because they are already conspicuous. We have no reason to be."

"You might not, but since I must live, I might as well live," Damon said. The pointed reminder of the genesis of their feud thickened the silence. Stefan chose to turn the conversation towards a practical matter. "How much did it cost?"

Damon leaned against the hood. "A few quarter rolls times 25? Pretty sure your eyebrows will disappear into that classic hairline, though."

Stefan suppressed a sigh. He nodded towards the passenger seat. "Then who is it for?"

"Myself, of course. For whom else would I spend an obscene amount of money?"

Stefan glanced at his brother. "I've known you for nearly two hundred years. Cream leather seats? Red or black, but cream?"

"People change, Stefan," Damon said.

"They do. You don't."

Damon looked over to the Porsche. The red gleamed in the fading light. He thought of her red lips, the imprint of them on his underside of his jaw. He closed his eyes, briefly.

"You ever have a picture in your head, so clear and so real it becomes the single purpose of your days? Every manipulation, every broken neck, every pain, every drop of pleasure is to obtain that picture, everything. Have you ever experienced that before?" Damon turned his eyes on Stefan. They blazed in such a way Stefan had only ever seen once, the first time Damon vowed to be his personal Fury.

"No?" Damon straightened. "How could you, when everything is just given to you. Forgiveness, immortality, love, loyalty. Even the goddamn rabbits collapse at your feet, necks outstretched."

Stefan watched him leave the garage. Damon seemed small in the glass window as he walked to the house. Stefan put his head back. He listened to the falling evening. An ache formed in his chest, one of many for his brother, but this one was also for himself. He had become so preoccupied with Elena that he missed it. Damon had changed into someone he recognized, so long ago.

* * *

Headlights bounced in the distance. The night pulled around him, covering him. The Prius passed and parked in the grass near the shed. Bonnie ran out, up the porch, into the house. She jogged upstairs to his rooms, then down to the cellars. Her footsteps were heavy on the stairs as she went up a second time. He saw her hesitate, turn away from Elena's closed door, and go further on to his rooms. She stood by his bed. She took out her phone, bluish white light illuminating her face, then the light went out. He couldn't read her thoughts, but he read her face, heard the agitated flutterings of her hands as she touched her hair, her temple, rubbed her neckt. Her face shone in the window, an eclipse of the sun.

Damon let the night fall back. He didn't want to catch her eyes so he averted his face when she saw him. He listened to her approach, listened for any trip of hesitation, any kind of pause, but her steps were light and determined. He kept his face turned even when he felt Bonnie standing there, a curl of heat in his stomach that spread through his body. It had been two terrible weeks of terrible coldness, and it only took her presence to end it.

"I don't want to be with you," Bonnie said.

Damon swung his head towards her. It was precisely the right thing to say. Bonnie caught his face in her hands and kissed him. She kissed him with a quiet kind of hunger, full of genuine need.

He lifted her off the ground, kissed her until it hurt, until standing was no longer a viable option. He carried her into the house, up the stairs, down the hall, into his bedroom. They fell onto his bed. Clothes came off in measured subtractions. They were naked, rolling around, groping each other, kissing, stroking. It was like all the other times, as good and as satisfying as all the other times, but when he circled his hips and she undulated her body, when their hands found each other grasped in the sheets, it was different, better. Her sweat didn't cool as quickly and they didn't wait.

When even he went limp, Bonnie stayed awake and watched him. It was a habit he liked for purely vain reasons. He liked knowing there was someone who gazed upon him with an aesthetic mind. It made him sleep like a cat in a sunlit corner. He woke an hour later to her dropping light kisses along his jaw and down his neck. He trailed a hand down her spine. She kissed his shoulders, sucked a small site of skin by his neck. Damon stirred, pulling her closer, wrapping himself around her, dragging his mouth across her collarbones. Bonnie left his neck and somehow her mouth was above his, lips drawing his, lapping in him until he moaned. Damon rolled them until he was settled above her, along her. He dropped kisses all over her face, thumbed her jaw, slipped his arm beneath her back to bring her closer, to draw her into him and him into her.

He opened his eyes to find her gaze sharp and clear. They kissed, blue on hazel, and he felt her trembling, tasted her air and swallowed it, made it part of his air and this was, he realized, this was what he had wanted, this quiet sharing, this slow burrowing into each other. He wanted someone to take his hand, as Bonnie did, lips stung and pink, and press a light kiss to his palm, all the while looking into him, pulling what was in him out onto skin to be kissed. He wanted this until the world ended. He wanted this as they turned to dust.

That awareness cascaded over him, over and over. He closed his eyes, dropped his forehead to her shoulder. Her arms came around him, hands running down his back, fingers combing through his hair, over and over.

"I don't want to be with you," Bonnie said. Her voice was clear. Damon nosed her collarbone.

"You said that already."

"I know. I'm hoping if I say it enough, it'll be true."

Bonnie eased him off and left the bed. The bathroom door shut with a click. Damon listened. The sound of the spray was sharp compared to when it hit her flesh. To him, Bonnie taking a shower reminded him of rain falling to the earth. It was some kind of poetry, useless as it was. The rain fell where it did, and the earth had no choice but to yield. Damon sighed. Lavender and mint perfumed the room. He had to get up.

So he got up. Picked up her clothes, folded them into a neat pile, went into the bathroom to leave them on the sink counter. He had to see her, so he stood in the steam and looked for the sake of looking. Bonnie had her hair piled on her head as she scrubbed her body. She turned her back into the spray, saw him, and smiled. It was a small smile, not quite as brilliant as the few hundred she had thrown his way, but it was his, created for him. It desiccated his heart.

Damon handed Bonnie a towel and left. Suddenly, everything was too sharp. He felt her everywhere, missed her, wanted to go back in the bathroom and kiss and be kissed senseless. He tried to make himself decent, pulled on a shirt and jeans, straightened the sheets, but he wanted to smash everything beneath his hands, wanted to go out and get bloody, come back and have Bonnie kiss him clean. Damon turned on the news. Same shit, different day. He turned it off and went to the window. The trees were bare and the ground looked like a fire hazard. His toyed with his ring, thinking of flames.

The bathroom door opened. He saw her reflected. She had her hair in a ponytail and gold studs caught the weak light. He had teased her about this get up, her practical Lara Croft look. Her mouth did that thing between pursing and grinning that kept him going. Damon watched her pull on a sweater, watched her eyes slide to his back, then shift so that they were staring at each other. Never, in all of his existence, had Damon been one to practice reticence. So no, he wasn't going to let this shit happen like some silent art film.

"A year ago," Damon turned, "I would have gladly sacrificed you if it meant Elena could live one more day."

Bonnie blinked. "Right," she stooped to tie her boots. "Would have? You did."

"Then you must be the most corporeal ghost in existence."

"Don't be so naive, Damon. There are other ways to kill someone," Bonnie said.

"Oh, yes," Damon laughed, "the dark side. Did I force you on that path?"

"No. No one did. I just had the choice of letting Elena die and being a monster, or abandoning the spirits and becoming an outcast to my own kind. So what do I do? Tell me," Bonnie stared at him, "what would you have done?" Damon said nothing. A brittle laugh rang out.

"Exactly. It's so convenient to make me the bad guy when you are the one with choices. I haven't had a choice since I've met you," Bonnie twisted them of her sweater. "Don't blame me for wanting to make one now."

"I will blame you." Damon stepped close. "I do blame you. You can't come to me like this, incite these fucking feelings in me, and then expect a fuck and a friendly farewell. I-" Damon paused.

He saw something flicker across her face, so bright and consuming he forgot to breathe. Her eyes were more green than hazel, shiny and slick. Her pulse quickened and he wanted to put his mouth there, at her neck, feel the vein shiver against his tongue.

Bonnie dropped her eyes, took a step back. "I can't be here anymore, Damon. There's no reason for me to stay."

Damon licked his lips, they had gone dry. Bonnie hadn't moved. He could have circled her, but took this opportunity to use his words. "Friendship?"

Bonnie shook her head, turned.

"Loyalty? Defeating our enemies?"

"No. No."

Damon stepped closer until her shoulders brushed his chest. She kept gulping, kept her head turned from him. This was already a betrayal of herself, Damon knew. To cry like this, to even be here in his room, exposed Bonnie to him in ways that frightened her. That fear was more intoxicating than blood. It meant more to him than the hundred of kisses they shared or the sex they had or the existing trust between them. This fear, so potent, mirrored an aspect of his own trepidation. Her tears were confirmation. Damon watched her reflection in the window. He touched her cheek, felt the damp on his fingertips.

Bonnie lifted her eyes to his and they stared at each other at a distance, but so close. He lapped in their greenness, leaned into her, swept his fingers down in a gentle stroke along her throat. A warm hand grasped his wrist, but he had found her weakness. As a hunter, Damon could not turn from such a magnificent kill as the fortified and hidden heart.

"Love, then."

Bonnie went limp. Her head tipped back to rest over his still heart. Damon pulled her into him, pressed a line of hot, dry kisses behind an ear and along her jaw. His lips stung from the salt of her tears.

After a long minute, Bonnie pivoted to fit herself flush against him, arms twined around his waist, head tucked into his chest, breathing hard. He gazed out at the trees and saw the clean blue sky and the gold and burnished reds and amber of the leaves. Her heart beat so hard, it caused his to beat in time.

Damon closed his eyes, relieved.


End file.
